


Summer Pornathon 2014 Entries

by AHaresBreath



Series: Pornathon '14 Entries [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adventure Time Fusion, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Autofellatio, Circus, Classical References, F/M, Food Sex, M/M, Magic Mirrors, Masturbation, Multi, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Renaissance Era, Sheela na Gig, Summer Pornathon 2014, Texts From Last Night, Theft, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHaresBreath/pseuds/AHaresBreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pre-Pornathon Photobomb

Me photobombing a scene from Merlin.

Done on Infinite Painter on a Galaxy Tab 3.


	2. Week 1: Main Challenge

Main Challenge: Texts From Last Night

 

New message from Merlin:  
 __  
 _I'm taking tokes in the bath tub,_  
 _come if you want, I'm naked_  
 _and you have to bring chicken nuggets_  
 _or else you can't come in_

Well, I dropped everything didn’t I? The lunch tray I was queuing with, the study group I was supposed to be meeting.

When I reached his place, clutching a greasy bag, I found he’d left the door latched. The flat smelt of his bergamot bath soak and a heavy layer of the sickly-sweet skunk he’d treated himself to last night, in honour of finishing his exams.

He sprawled on the bed like a dream. Naked, as promised, still wet from the bath. Pink and pale against burgundy sheets. His eyes were closed and his fingers played curiously over his mouth. He inhaled deeply through his nose and turned, inky lashes barely lifting from his red-raw eyes.  
"Food?" He whispered, voice rough with smoke, and his ruddy lips gaped invitingly. His already pudgy penis lazed against his thigh.

My heart thundering, I scrambled to kick off my shoes and get to the bed. I knelt beside him and pulled out the box, laying it on the folded bag and opening it like a treasure chest, an offering.

He moaned when I placed the first nugget against his lips and his teeth sank into the juicy flesh. His sleepy eyes rolled back in his head and his back arched.

With my free hand I grazed his ribs, and briefly allowed myself to pet his warm, damp crotch. He nudged into me and sucked in the rest of the chicken piece, throat working as he swallowed it down.

"You're going to give yourself indigestion." I told him softly, selecting the next piece.

"Oh god, don't care..." He snapped his jaws at where my hand hovered just out of reach. He may have been too weak to sit up but he managed to lift his head far enough off the pillow to snatch the chicken from me, mumbling contentedly as he flopped back down to chew.

Merlin obviously wasn't vegetarian, but he never ate much meat, a combination of laziness and poverty he claimed, except when he got really stoned, then he would become a voracious carnivore, devouring burgers, sausages, anything that sat still long enough, but nuggets were his favourite. I’d have preferred to do him a nice bit of steak, but he wasn’t interested. 

To be honest I loved him like this though, writhing in ecstasy as I hand fed him each golden morsel, and him sucking on my fingers so as not to waste any of the flavour...

A nip to my wrist broke my reverie and reminded me I had a job to do and a hungry boyfriend to serve.

He chomped down two more and I broke away to whip off my clothes and, in a moment of inspiration, slipped a couple of nuggets in the front of my pants, they were still warm and felt rough and weird, but not unpleasant. When he realised I was no longer feeding him and the box had disappeared he began snuffling around like a blind puppy, he even whined softly, it shouldn't have been so cute.

He rolled over and sniffed his way up my thigh until he found the extra bulge in my pants. His tongue snaked out and prodded first at the knobbly chicken, then my rock hard dick and then settled flat against my balls sending shivers up my spine. He stretched his mouth wide, glancing cheekily up at me, and attempted to fit his teeth around both balls and one of the nuggets where they nestled together in the thin fabric.

"Nomnomnomnomnom," he mumbled into my crotch, sucking what he could into his wet mouth. It tickled, and stung a bit, but fuck if it wasn't one of the hottest things I've ever seen that man do. When he ripped my pants off and had gobbled down the slightly squished chicken nuggets, he licked my dick and smacked his lips.

"Mmmaaarthur, you should always carry chicken in your pants," he said, "So you'll always taste and smell this fucking good..."

It was gross of course, not to mention more than a little unnerving letting him take my delicates between his chops when he was in this mood. Worth it every time though. 

I couldn’t help wondering how he’d react if I could manage to get some chicken up my bum next time. After _my_ final exam perhaps.

 

 


	3. Week 1 Bonus Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 1, Bonus Challenge: Summer

"It's an _evil_ game." Merlin opened the door of their cottage and ducked under the low beam that he'd already hit his head on twice. He hovered under the jasmine, torn between the torrential rain beyond and the warmth of the gas fire, blazing just behind where Arthur knelt, counting his money. "I'm not playing any more, I'm not having fun."

"Where are you going to go in this weather? You'll fall off a cliff." Arthur said, straightening one of his hotels. "Besides, _I'm_ having fun, I'll lend you five hundred... No wait, I'll pay you five hundred to let me blow you. But you have to keep playing... As long as I say."


	4. Week 2: Bonus Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 2, Bonus Challenge: Rock & Roll

 

Merlin rocking out on bass. Finger painted using Infinite Painter on the Galaxy Tab 3.


	5. Week 2: Secrets & Lies

61.  
Pairing(s): Merlin/Morgana/Arthur, Merlin/Morgana  
Warning(s): Incest

The Emery twins were stretching Arthur's sanity to breaking point. He glared at them across the ballroom, ignoring the chatter that surrounded him.

They stood close together, they always did, and leaned in, exchanging veiled smiles. They rarely spoke, even to each other, but often they held each other's gaze for unusually long periods, long enough to make Arthur squirm with discomfort and have to look away. 'Self sufficient', people called them, 'Shy' even. And 'Poor dears, what a terrible tragedy, at least they still have each other?'

If it was uncomfortable for Arthur watching them stare into their twin's eyes that was nothing compared to having them turn those eyes on him. They were both blue, hers pale and icy, his a rich lapis, and when they looked at him Arthur felt scrutinised, dissected and laid bare.

Merlin turned his gaze to Arthur now. Arthur knew they were aware of his obsession, whenever they were near he couldn't take his eyes off them. Morgana looked at him with disdain and a slight curl of her red lip. Merlin looked at him with curiosity and amusement though. He raised his champagne flute and nodded to Arthur, cocking his head to the side. Arthur was blushing furiously as he grabbed a glass from a passing tray and hurried to speak to an old family acquaintance.

* * *

Arthur was crouching in the shrubbery when Merlin stepped out of his drawing room and onto the terrace to vape. He sucked in deeply and blew out a cloud of steam, turning directly to where Arthur hid.

"It's alright," he spoke quietly but his deep voice carried, "You may as well come out."

For a moment Arthur froze but eventually he wobbled out, dusting off his trousers, and ascended the low steps to where Merlin stood, haloed by the light from the house. He wore the remains of his dinner suit, the jacket discarded but his black tie still hanging loosely. Morgana came out to join him in just a cream silk slip which buckled over her tight nipples and skimmed her thighs, and slid a slender arm around her brother's waist.

"So," she said, voice clear and sharp, "We have a wager going, Merlin thinks you're stalking us 'cause you fancy one, or both, of us, I think you're looking to make a name for yourself on the gossip webs. Which is it?"

Arthur choked and spluttered a bit. "I'm not... Neither... I'm not stalking either of... And I don't work for the..." He trailed off, he had been caught skulking in the bushes, it didn't look good.

"Sex or secrets," Merlin was smirking, and licked his full lips deliberately. "Everybody's after one or the other."

Arthur felt his trousers tighten and knew there was no point now in playing coy. He stepped forward til he could smell the menthol on Merlin's breath. He looked between them, silently asking them both for permission, and said with as much bravado as he could muster "Whatever you're offering, I find you breathtaking."

The twins exchanged a long look, Merlin quirked his eyebrow and Morgana shrugged and rolled her eyes, then she lifted herself up on her tiptoes and sucked in Merlin's lower lip, dragging it through her teeth. He bent to kiss her back and she wrapped her spare hand around Arthur's neck, pulling him in and transferring her lips to his, when she had tasted him thoroughly she guided his head towards Merlin, and Arthur found himself drawn in and drowning in velvet lips and skin.

They passed him back and forth as they led him into the house and up to their shared bedroom, which was airy and draped with silks. Merlin took him from behind and Morgana took him from the front and they kissed each other over his shoulder as they ground him to pulp between the steady rhythm of their hips.


	6. Week 3: Bonus Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Purple Romance


	7. Week 3: Trades & Professions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 3: Trades & Professions

Lancelot is a painter in renaissance Florence, Merlin is his assistant and model. Together they recruit Arthur to pose as Apollo for his next work, the Death of Hyacinth. Sexytimes ensue.

 

With thanks to Adriaen van Ostade for the lend of his studio:


	8. Week 4: TROPESMASH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tropes smashed: Mirrors, Object Insertion, Masturbation, a smattering of Comeplay and future Beloved Enemies

Seventeen years the magic mirror had lain hidden, languishing under a tapestry, caked with dust and frosted with cobwebs in a sunless chamber in the Queen’s Tower. When the last queen had died, beloved Ygraine, the grieving king had ordered her rooms sealed, the windows were barred, heavy drapes drawn, and three stout doors of strongest oak stood locked between her quarters and the rest of the castle. The king became bitter without his sweet wife to temper him, he was harsh with his subjects and made war on the neighbouring kingdom, with whom they had previously been good friends. It was said that the only time the king smiled was when he held his young son, he doted on the boy and would deny him nothing, but for the one thing little Arthur longed for most. He begged his father to be allowed to visit his mother’s chambers, to touch her trinkets and feel the silk of her dresses. To curl up in her bed. But the king wouldn’t have it and over time the prince learned to stop asking. He learned to discover his own way in.

Now, as I’m sure you know, a magic mirror in isolation is just a mirror. It must have a counterpart, a twin. And this particular mirror’s twin stood in the bedchamber of another young prince, across the mountains in the next kingdom. A prince who was currently making some discoveries of his own.

Merlin lay on a rug before the mirror, which hadn’t shown anything more than what was in front of it in years. He hooked his skinny thighs under his elbows and curved his neck up to peer at the reflection of his little pink hole, he’d just had three fingers in it, but it still looked tiny. Carefully he picked up the long, slender candle he’d rounded off with his knife and prodded it into his hole. The flesh dimpled, resisting for a moment before it gave and the muscle opened to swallow the bulbous end in a grasping, sucking movement. It dragged along his insides in a most pleasant way, and young Merlin grew bolder, plunging the device further and further in and setting up a good rhythm. So he was quite startled by catching sight of movement beyond the spectacle of his arsehole swallowing the candle, his first thought being that someone had entered his chamber, perhaps a servant, or his mother. Of course this could not be so, he’d bolted the door securely. In fact, as I’m sure you’ve guessed it was Prince Arthur, in far off Camelot, who had broken into his mother’s chamber and was busy exploring her possessions.

When he’d whipped back the tapestry hanging over the mirror his jaw had dropped and his heart had stuttered, because there, seeming not two feet from where he stood, was a red-faced, dark-haired contortionist, buggering himself studiously with a long candle, pale against the flushed ring of his arse.

Arthur fell to his knees in front of the mirror, he felt suddenly lightheaded, and rather heavy in the trouser, and was completely unable to tear his eyes away. So when his sudden movement alerted the boy to his presence their gazes met. They stared wide-eyed at each other for a moment.

Prince Merlin, perhaps high on the relief that it was not his mother who had found him, let his eyes drop first, licking his lips when he saw that the other boy was clutching desperately at his crotch. Slowly and deliberately he drew out the length of the candle, shiny with oil, and swiftly plunged it back in.

In Camelot, Arthur gulped, he could hear faintly through the mirror the slippery pulse of the candle as the boy pumped it steadily, and the soft pants of his exertion. Seeing that the boy was testing his nerve, Arthur carefully unlaced his breeches and slipped a hand around his cock, he frowned and met the boy’s eyes again as he pumped, both of them staring as they picked up pace and raced each other to completion. When Arthur came he sprayed the surface of the mirror, splashing over the image of the boy, who was removing the candle and stretching his limbs. Arthur reached out and dipped his fingers in his come, smearing it across the mirror, wishing he was smearing rosy lips.

Merlin smiled shyly and scooped up some of his own come, touching it to where Arthur’s fingers rested on the glass.


	9. Week 5: Snatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 5: Snatch

The house was still silent as Merlin threw himself in the passenger seat, clutching his prize. His heart was racing, he’d never done anything like this before, but when a gorgeous woman asks you to use your magic to help save a piece of local history from an evil tyrant, what’s a boy to do?

“You didn’t say it would be so heavy.” He said with a cheeky grin, cradling it in its blanket like a baby.

“I said it was made of stone Merlin, what were you expecting?” Morgana didn’t look at him as she pulled slowly out of the gravel drive, her perfect red nails tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. She didn’t switch the headlights on until they were a way down the road, and then sped back to her flat in the city.

. . .

The stone was placed on the coffee table in the sitting room, Morgana kept stroking it, humming to herself, and sometimes resting both hands on it and closing her eyes. Merlin hovered nearby, sipping a glass of wine.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” She whispered at last.

Merlin scrunched up his nose and mumbled something indistinct.

“What?” She snapped.

“I said… It’s kind of ugly.” Though he knew already that was the wrong thing to say. She jumped up and snatched the glass from his hand, setting it on the bookshelf before pinning him to the wall by the shoulders. She was stronger than she looked.

“In what way is it ugly?”

He gulped and peered at the Sheela na Gig. Well, her head was wonky for a start, her eyes small and angry, her mouth twisted. Also, there was the gaping… The hands, _pulling_ at her…

“Erm, it’s rather crudely carved.” Her eyes narrowed, “I mean, I don’t mean _crude_ ,” he quickly corrected himself, “I mean… Rough.”

“Well it’s a very early example,” she said sweetly. She pushed away from him and retrieved her own wine glass. “It’s a shame you find the female form so distasteful,” she sighed, swirling her wine and gazing at the figure again.

“Um?” Was all he managed to say.

“Because after all that excitement, I _had_ thought you might like to stay and help me…” She rolled her shoulders, “Unwind.”

Merlin swallowed thickly.

“But clearly you’re of no use to me if you can’t even look at a Sheela without squirming.”

“Well, I…” He paused and cocked his head to one side, coming to stand next to her. “You know, now that you mention it, there _is_ something rather fetching about her.”

Morgana smirked, “Touch her,” she said.

Merlin didn’t prevaricate, he reached out and ran first one, then two, long fingers around the folds of her cavernous gash, before rubbing his thumb down the centre and letting it nestle within the groove of her.

Morgana banged her glass down and grabbed his hand. “That’s quite enough of that, we don’t need your oily fingers damaging a thousand-year-old work of art.”

She flicked the blanket back over her last acquisition and dragged the latest down the hall and into her bedroom.


	10. Week 6: Cycles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 6: Cycles

**Pairings Merlin/Arthur**   
**Warnings Pseudomedievalism**

 

Pain arched through Arthur's body, he would not travel much further today, but the nearest village was still some eight miles distant. He wearily unstrapped his sword, leaning on it like an old man to lower himself onto a flat stone, let his forehead rest gently on the cool pommel and murmured a prayer to St Christopher.

He must've dozed, because when he was startled by the rattle of a heavy cart, the sky had darkened considerably. The wagon pulled up beside him, first in a convoy. Whispering thanks to the heavens, he accepted a ride, they were players, heading to the Shrovetide festivities, the greybeard driving informed him. They’d carry him not just to the next village but all the way to the shining city-port, from where he could take ship to England. Arthur wept in gratitude as he was helped by strong arms into the lead wagon.

* * *

A terrible heat, and a bone-deep cold. Kind eyes, squinting worriedly. Calloused fingers picking off his clothes.

* * *

Arthur woke to a cool breeze, birdsong and pale light.

A strange face peered down at him, though whether demonic or angelic he couldn't say, a bare chest, green ink picked out ridges and... Scales?

* * *

When Arthur awoke fully it was evening, orange shadows danced and wild music reeled outside. From the caravan, Arthur could see the revellers, scattered around several fires, while in between them danced two young women, their skirts flew and their hair flickered in the firelight as they juggled shining knives between them, all the time wheeling in perfect synchronicity to the beat of the drum. With a flourish they plunged each blade into the earth in a neat row and joined hands, bowing deeply. Next into the circle was a wiry young man, naked but for a small pouch to cover his modesty, Arthur blushed, but couldn't look away as the man's tattooed skin rippled in the orange glow. He turned a few simple cartwheels before bending himself backwards and scuttling like a crab, his long neck stretched and ribs distended, then, still on his hands, he lifted his legs in the air, holding them straight for a moment and then dropping them over, performing a complete roll and coming up on his feet. Though he’d not appeared to have exerted himself, there was a thin sheen of sweat across his body, and Arthur marvelled at the gleam as he flipped over and over, ever faster, smooth as spider-silk.

"The Serpent." It was the man who had offered him the ride, "One of our most popular attractions. And most precious." He was fixed with a meaningful eyebrow, Arthur knew he was not talking about coin.

The tumbler leapt sinuously into the caravan and grinned widely at Arthur. He smelt of warm earth and joy and woodsmoke, and Arthur felt the creeping shame he had fought for so many years. The aptly named Serpent was caressing his wound and Arthur tried to concentrate on the cleansing pain.

"Is this hell?" He asked.

The man tutted. "You're still feverish, so I'm going to ignore that foolishness."

Not knowing from where his boldness came, Arthur reached out to touch the patterned sinews before him.

"Serpent." He croaked.

The man rolled his eyes and glared behind him, the older man's retreating chuckle signalling they were alone. "Merlin. It started as a joke," he said, holding a waterskin to Arthur’s lips. "Part of my act. Do you know your alchemy? The serpent who swallows his own tail?”

Arthur shook his head, alchemy was second to witchcraft.

Merlin sighed, "It’s… Nevermind. You wouldn't like it. It's for a niche audience."

"I think I’d like anything you did."

Merlin bit his lip. "Maybe you would."

* * *

It was a disturbing sight, Arthur's bones protested just from watching. Merlin's legs were spread, knees hooked behind elbows, his torso almost folded in half. He snuffled and panted, eyes watering as he suckled on the plump head of his own cock, his balls pulled tight, dusky hole ignored.

The wound in Arthur’s side throbbed; he pumped his erection, head spinning.

Merlin rocked back, heaving a frantic breath then diving down to suck harder, getting his lips halfway down the shaft and finally spluttering as his thick seed bubbled over and out from between his slackening lips.

He smirked triumphantly, wiped his face and stretched out his long limbs, while Arthur whispered desperate prayers to his new saint, “ _Merlin_.”


	11. Bonus Challenge Week 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Challenge 7: Fusions
> 
> Adventure Time fusion.

C'mon, grab your friends, it's Adventure Time with Arthur the Human and Merlin Lin, The Sorcerer King.

 


	12. Week 7: Senses was it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to add this one, aptish as we approach Halloween though.

She grew cold and cruel, centuries alone will do that to the kindest soul, and she was never supposed to be so powerful, her allotted burden was simpler, she lost herself to the cat and tore soft bodies to shreds, but she had always come back to herself. 

He did this to her. 

He set her adrift on the holy lake, but he didn’t let her go, he tied her to the water, to the dark depths and the chill which would infuse her bones. At first he visited her, sat by the edge and talked to her and she was able to remember the gentle girl he wished her to be. But after the other one died he forgot her. He still visited the lake but he spoke not to her, he whispered lovingly to the other one, he spilled his searing, mocking tears for the one he loved best, had always loved most, and she withdrew, let the ice waters claim her and strip the illusion of flesh from her ghostly body, until she _was_ the water and the water was her. And so she grew in strength, the villagers made offerings to her, the fishermen begged her favour and all the birds and beasts flocked to her and took her into them and left a part of themselves for her. And so she grew, she became everything and everything was her.

Still he came and mourned for the other one, until he barely knew himself, but still he remembered his lost king. So she pulled weeds around herself to make a body and lifted a skull from her bed, washed brilliant white by the years and raised herself from the water and spoke to him, not as the child, not as a sorceress, but as a goddess, and he had to listen.

He was old and broken by grief and his wisdom had been lost to time, so when she made the offer he agreed readily to her terms. She would bring forth the body of his lover, which had lain in her cold depths for so many winters, she would lift him from the silt and Merlin could swim down and spend one night with him every year, on one condition, Merlin must not look on him, if he did she would keep them both forever.

Merlin stripped off his clothes and his years, diving into her waters a lean young man in his prime, she shivered against his warm skin and nipped at his ears, he had not touched her in so long, and she licked at his mouth, reminding him that she had been the first to taste him. When he reached his lover’s arms he ran his fingers over the familiar muscles, he squeezed his buttocks and tested ridged scars, he kissed the strong nose and weak chin and tasted full lips, all this with his eyes closed, but he knew his lover, he knew Arthur. He knew the shape of Arthur’s cock as he eased it between his legs and the tearing pain as it pierced him, unprepared. He remembered the pace of Arthur’s thrusts and the imprint of his teeth in his neck. It had been hundreds of years, maybe thousands, since he had felt Arthur’s embrace and he recognised every divot in his flesh and every flutter of his heart, and as he grasped his fingers in Arthur’s hair and as Arthur’s cock found the tender spot inside that made his legs clench tight, his eyes burst with tears and he saw Arthur before him, bathed in diffuse green light, golden hair waving like fronds, and as he watched Arthur’s eyes widened in terror, his eyelids peeling back to reveal the orbs of his eyeballs, his cheeks sunk in and dissolved, leaving him with an ugly grin, his hair came out in clumps in Merlin’s hands and his hard, beautiful penis withered to nothing inside Merlin. 

Merlin screamed silently as Arthur decayed in his arms and the cold lake water rushed into his lungs and guts, claiming him, freezing his cells, absorbing his magic. Freya cradled him in her eddies, rocking his fragile body, lifeless and ancient, until his flesh too became one with her waters. And long after she had forgotten the names Freya and Merlin, and forgotten what a man even was, she treasured the glint of gold in deep blue depths and the memory of the memory of a warm touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hero always looks...


End file.
